


Supremacy

by hikarufly



Series: After Twelve Stories [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Angst, F/M, In Character, Porn With Plot, Sexual Experimentation, Smut, Threats, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikarufly/pseuds/hikarufly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara and the Doctor find themselves in a closed, empty room. He's definitely not ok, and why are they there? Why is he looking at her like he wants to eat her, or worst?</p><p>I am not used to this kind of themes, but I gave it a shot. It's much more "intense" than the rest of my works, but I hope you enjoy! English is not my first language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supremacy

Clara woke up: she brought a hand to her head, heavy and hurting, feeling a burn at the side of his forehead. She stood up but had to sustain herself against the surface just behind and beside her. The wall she was leaning to was pure white, glowing a little, and warm, as it was part of a circuit or... a spaceship? She looked at her hand and a few drops of blood were colouring her fingertips.

She raised her head to look around: where was the Doctor? They were in the TARDIS, not doing anything really, just... they had destroyed an evil computer that was slaving an entire civilization and they were both high on adrenaline so they decided to find a place where they could run and run to shake that off. Maybe she was thinking about something else, rather than running, to do together, and she was glad it didn't end up on all the screens... but not like this, not without... she remember sighing, and the Doctor asking what was wrong and...

The blood on her forehead was dry, except for the few drops on her fingers. She looked around, focusing as her sight was getting clearer. The Doctor was just in front of her, on the opposite corner of the room. She made a step towards him but her legs felt heavy, almost tripped and... a big sofa materialised to prevent her from falling. Telepathic room of requirements? Were they in a sort of Harry Potter style planet? But if it was telepathic...

Clara, still sitting, searched for the Doctor again. She wanted to ask about the place, if he knew it, if it was a telepathic room and... but the Doctor didn't look well either.

The white light made him even paler than he normally was. His hair and eyes were wild. He looked like he was trying to control something inside him, but was unable to. He had a sort of long tunic, a cross between a hospital coat and a ceremonial robe. In a rush of terror, Clara realised that she was dressed in the same fashion, and under the robe there was no piece of cloth whatsoever. She stood up, adrenaline kicking in, fear making her less numb and confused.

«Doctor... were are we? What is going on?» she asked, clearing her throat after calling him, as if she had not been talking for days or... weeks.

He seemed desperate to hung onto something but unlike her, what he needed was not materialising.

«Gallifrey.» he replied, as the word finally escaped from his lips, forcing them back for some reason. His eyes were bloodshot, his pupils dilated, and his entire body was tense, as a beast ready to pounce on a prey, or maybe... on her?

«Gallifrey? But... how?» she continued, but his all demeanour was scaring her too much. It seemed she understood that she could not reason with him now.

«This... is a lab...» he started, to say, walking towards her as he was struggling with himself, stepping forwards as wires were preventing him to.

«A Gallifreyan lab. And we are the test subject. The guinea pigs in the little labyrinth.» she whispered.

«Except there is no maze to walk through, no central spot where we have to meet...» he said, closing his eyes as to regain focus. «There is only one task.»

Clara took a moment to realise. She made a step backwards against the wall. No doors, no windows, no speaker, no escape. They were trapped, and he didn't seem in his right mind. Those pupils...

«No, no, not like this, please...» she murmured, shaking her head. Panic was squeezing her lungs and racing her heart.

«The Hybrid, that's all they can think of. Since Davros took us, since Missy send them rambling ideas about it: two warrior races, a creature that could destroy the universe. If you can't prevent it, catch it and study it.» he explained, while those invisible wires were getting wearier and feebler.

«Doctor no, please, no...» Clara begged, getting to the far end of the room and clinging to the wall, while the sofa disappeared and no obstacle was between them. «You said Time Lords, the Highest ranks, used the Looms to perpetuate the species. That they are not born in wombs...»

She was desperate to make him reason: rationality, thinking, talking, that was the Doctor's thing. And she knew sex was not a Gallifreyan thing: too savage. Missy called it “food chain”. She was beginning to understand: the two warrior races the High Counsel or whatever wanted to mate were Time Lords and Humans. They could not use Daleks, but humans? It was so easy to make humans.

«Not all Gallifreyans are Time Lords, Clara. Many of us were and are born from wombs. I was. My children were.» he said, his voice getting deeper and stronger, and menacing.

The walls of the room became suddenly red, then white again and red, as on a distress signal, or a call to arms. A loud sound covered any sound she could make, and then it was silent again, but the walls remained red.

«Why not a lab, eh?» she screamed, looking up as to look their jailers in the eye, and luckily she could also see the Doctor struggling to stay away from her. «Why not... artificial insemination or something?»

The mere idea terrified her, but she had to stay strong. There were a few things she had understood about Time Lords, and they were not the types to put one of their own in a room to mate with an inferior race.

«They think it won't work...» replied the Doctor: its voice was deeper, angrier and growling «Warrior races demand use force and supremacy. They think I have to take advantage of you. I am the perfect candidate: not inferior, since I am a Time Lord, yet disposable enough.»

Clara widened her eyes: rape, that is what they wanted. Rape, not mating. But the Doctor, her Doctor, would not be capable of such a thing, if he was in right mind. And he was struggling to be.

«They drugged you.» she stated, and he was able to reply only with a nod. Whatever substance they had infused in him was finally taking over him.

If the situation was different, Clara would note to herself how those dilated pupils of his had made him more a beast than anything else in his appearance: the blue in his eyes was almost gone. His posture resembled now the one of a leopard, and he pounced. Clara tried to escape, moving away at the last moment, while he was determined to block her. The room was still red as blood, and it was getting him madder and madder. No doors, no windows, no furniture to hide behind, no way to stop him if not with her bare hands. When he got closer again, throwing her against the wall and blocking her arms at her pulses, she turned her face away and strongly held her legs as firm and closed as possible. She continued looking at him though, ready to attack if necessary. She had to think, too. After a moment of impasse, he made her turn as to gain access to her back. He had to let one of her hand go to tear the robe away from her, but she was quick. She tried to nudge him, but she only managed to make him take her wrist again. A sort of pallet emerged from the floor, high enough for him to throw her on it but simple enough to be nothing like a bed at all. He was on her in a blink of an eye, the only sounds of his mouth were the snarls of beasts. She struggled not to let him undress her, calling his name over and over again to try and reach him. No, not panic, Clara, if you panic, you won't stop him. She was crying now, more of tension and fear than anything else.

“There must be you somewhere there. You said you were young and telepathic once. Please, please, hear me!” she thought, as loud as she believed her thoughts could be.

 

“I am here, Clara.” his voice resounded in her mind. A moment hesitation, and he almost pulled her robe away. She continued to try and get him away.

“What can I do?” she asked, in her mind, scratching him.

“There is no way I can stop what I am doing. If it was another race, maybe, but this is my own people's drugs, I can't fight it.” he replied, becoming wilder and dangerous by the second. “They only way is for you to take control, Clara. They won't let us out until they've obtained what they wanted, but I don't want to violate you. I love you.” he continued, and it seemed like this last sentence had affected his gestures to. Clara managed to slip away his grip, and punch his stomach, feeling guilty and bad and trying to stand up, but failing, as he was on her again.

“I didn't want this to happen like this...” she heard his voice less strong yet full of the sentiment she could not read in his eyes. Clara had a sudden thought.

“It doesn't have to. If it's about supremacy, I won't let you take it. Even if I have to hurt you.”

So she stopped fighting against him, she started fighting with him. She got away from him then kicked him away from the bedding and up again. She attempted to his robes, as he did with hers, and this made him first caught him off guard, then seemed to made him even more excited. The light went white again. A fierce, primitive smile was on his face, and Clara tried not to take hold of that. That was the Doctor, but not her own, awkward, grumpy yet sweet, romantically useless Doctor. If the Time Lords wanted to challenge a real control freak like her, they didn't know what they had unleashed.

She managed to strip him off, finally, a few nail scratch were read and bloody on his white chest, staining his grey hair with few red drops. All his muscles were tense. She was growling too, now, and she hadn't even realised it. He attacked again, to take her robe finally off her, and she struggled. She slapped and scratched, until she was naked too, her skin a few shades browner than his. They studied each other, catching their breath. Nothing to hung to now, no fabric.

“Are you hurt?” she heard, not from his lips but definitely in his voice.

“No.” she replied, even if she was. His hands had pressed to firmly, too wildly. “You are.”

“I had worst. I died twelve times, remember?” he said.

Their bodies were walking in a circle, their mind were dancing.

“Don't you dare regenerating, old owl. I like what I see.” she grinned, both soul and lips. In another situation, he would have blushed, but she felt him grinning the same.

“Me too.” His Scottish accent was intense, even seductive.

“I never tried rough sex before, it could be fun.” she heard herself thinking, and then he leapt onto her.

 

She was ready, though, so they were on the bedding again, this time reverting their position a few moments apart. If he was on top, his knee was trying to separate her legs and one hand was holding her firm while the other was attempting at her inner thigh and vagina, fingers first. When she was getting advantage, and standing on him, she has the one holding firmly his erected cock, teasing and torturing him, pleasuring herself without letting him inside her. Her free hand was strangling his neck, just enough for him to feel the pleasure (plus, she knew Time Lords could go on and on without air). They were fighting so franticly that they ended up on the floor.

She was first attempting to wear him down, but she soon understood that whatever they had drugged him with, made him tireless. If he had to have her, she might as well take the best out of it. In her head, his voice was growling, snarling, moaning in Gallifreyan, but Clara imagined they were profanities of some sort, since all that friction, fight, struggle and moves were having arousing effects on her too. She was wet and longing by now, and even if he wasn't showing, she knew he could hear her moans too: “Come on... harder... do you call that a slap? No, not there, don't you dare... yes, here, yes... oh God! Yes... yes!”

It was time now: they were at the same side and at the same level of supremacy. She grabbed his cock and guided it inside herself, with an excited scream. She rode him first, while he clung onto her butt cheeks, leaving red marks and scratches. Then he flipped that interlock of bodies and fucked her as he had never done before. She sunk her nails in his back, asking for more, for harder thrusts, cursing him, biting his shoulders and hanging to his hips.

She came, for the fourth time to be precise, since she had taken all the pleasure she could even before, and he ejaculated in the depths of her.

He collapsed on her, panting and sweating still, and she made her embrace sweeter, catching her breath.

«I love you too.» she whispered, faintly, at his ear. «I didn't say before...»

He found her gaze and smiled. He was back.

 

«Ready?» he said, in a murmur.

«Again? This drug is not so bad after all...» she replied, smiling. The blue in his eyes was intrigued but embarrassed in a way. He was really back.

«To fight them.» he clarified. She nodded.

A couple of soldiers entered the room from a sliding door, that materialised on the spot. Both the Doctor and Clara did not seem able to stand up properly, so they were taken out to a long corridor. After a few steps, though, the Doctor regained himself. He stole the gun from his jailer, and taking Clara with him, he ran down the corridor with her.

«Church awaits.» he said, and he had to take her in his arms to continue. She was only human.

«You are really old fashioned...» she managed to reply.

But he didn't mean like that. He had taken notice something was going on after that adventure, after he had asked her what was wrong. Yes, he never thought about sex, not when it was obvious. But sometimes, often, when she had that particular smile, when she was looking at him in a certain way, he felt like the only thing in the world for her, he fell in love every single time with her. He had his qualms, of course, but the Time Lords made him throw them away, finally, even if for their own schemes...

 

When Clara woke up, she felt restored and warm. She had a nightie and a nightgown, and was wrapped in a fluffy blanket. She looked around and tried to stand up, but a firm yet gentle touch prevented her to move and made her relax again. She was on a chaise lounge, in what looked like a large, 18th century decorated room in a noble house. The Doctor sat next to her, at minimum yet respectable distance.

«How did we escape?» she asked, in a sleepy voice.

«I'll explain later.» he replied, in a low, comforting, warm tone.

She moved towards him and curled up in his arms, ready to meet her.

«I actually don't care...» she said. «The real question is... if I promise to take real care of you, can we make love this time? Not just sex?»

He smiled.

«It took me some time to understand the difference. But I believe there are no obstacles.» he added, as he was talking about the weather.

«Idiot.» she replied, kissing him.

«Doctor Idiot, for you.» he said.

And she was the one to smile.

 


End file.
